


Little Storms

by BeesKnees



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finnick brings Annie home a gift from the Capitol. </p>
<p>Spoiler: It's kittens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Now with [art](http://thewildwilds.tumblr.com/post/113934054973/a-quick-giftart-sketch-for-queen-kerosene-based) by the most beautiful thewildwilds.

“Do you know how much this is worth?” 

His stylist holds up the plastic bag, staring at the colorful fish bobbing in a few inches of water. Finnick belatedly looks back over at the fish. 

For the last few months, designer pets have been growing in popularity in the Capitol, which has resulted in Finnick receiving an aquarium worth of rare fish, all manipulated to look brighter, more dangerous, more strange. Finnick hates them. Mutt fish were a part of his games, and he has to suppress a shudder with each one of these gifts. He doesn't know what to do with any of them. He feels too guilty about letting them die, but releasing them certainly isn't an option. In the end, he hands them over to Melia, his stylist, who dutifully makes sure that each one is kept alive and tended for. 

He also has a crab, which, he admits, is probably his favorite, because it tries to snap anyone's fingers when they go near it. He named it after Johanna.

“No,” Finnick answers as the fish changes shades of glimmering blue and purple in front of them. He knows that if Melia felt the need to comment on the rarity of the fish though, it must be quite expensive. That's the other problem: He could sell these fish, probably feed an entire district with the value of what's in his aquarium. But they're gifts. He has to keep them or risk gravely insulting someone.

Melia makes a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, but doesn't tell him exactly how much the new fish is worth.

“Put it with the others, would you?” Finnick says, tired. He crawls into the bed in his apartment and sleeps.

…

He spends the next week with the Aldjoys, the family who sponsored his trident six years ago, and still have the most sway over him. They say they want a week, a month with him, they get it. No questions asked. He's a pet of sorts to them. 

His third day in, he heads down into the kitchen before anyone in the family is awake, unable to sleep. He smiles at the servants, who diligently go about making him coffee, too sweet, the way he likes it, and preparing breakfast. He settles down at the kitchen table, and isn't there long at all, when he's surprised to feel something settle on his foot.

Glancing under the table, he sees a small kitten on top of his right foot, looking just as expectantly up at him. It has two counterparts alongside it, one shyly lingering away from him, the other beginning to tap the side of his ankle with a curious little paw. They're all a soft shade of roiling grey with darker lines that remind him of cresting waves. 

He reaches down and picks up the bravest one, the one that had settled on his foot, holding it in the palm of his hand. It mews loudly at him, and Finnick smiles, running two fingers over its soft head. The one who had been batting at his ankle begins to assess how best to climb his leg.

“Oh, Mr. Odair,” the head maid says as she comes in. They've known each other for years, and Finnick has tried to persuade her to call him by his first name ever since he was fifteen, but she never has, and only in the last year has he let it go, realizing that she's probably not allowed. 

“I'm so sorry,” she says, clearly embarrassed as she swoops down to pick up the kitten he's holding. It lets out a cry of protest. “I don't know how they got out.” 

“Are they Ashleen's?” Finnick asks, referencing the Aldjoys' oldest daughter.

“Certainly not,” Savera, the family matriarch says as she strolls into the kitchen, still clothed in nothing but her robe. She sits down at the head of the table, right beside Finnick. She tuts her tongue as she looks down at the two kittens still on the floor. “We're designing something special for Ashleen's next birthday. _These_ ,” she looks distastefully down at the kittens, “are the mistakes.” 

The maid gathers up the other two kittens, and at being confined, all three cry loudly in her arms, and then hurries away. She returns only when breakfast is ready.

“What's going to be done with them?” Finnick asks.

“Oh, we'll get rid of them,” Savera says, waving her hand idly.

“I'll take them,” Finnick says, surprising himself.

“Oh, Finnick.” Savera says, as if he's being quaint. She rests a hand against his knee. “You don't want those. They're so … _plain_. I'll have something special made for you as well, shall I?”

“No, really,” Finnick says, putting on his best smile. “I'd like those.” He can't stand the thought of them being killed just because they don't glow or roar or have three extra paws, or whatever it is that would make them fashionable in that Capitol at the moment.

“Oh, all right,” Savera says.

Which is how Finnick ends up with a box of squirming kittens on the train back to the Four. 

He's always brought presents back for his sisters from the Capitol. Carefully chosen, of course; but fabric is always a safe gift, because they can make whatever clothes they like from it. Art supplies for his middle sister have always been nice, and his eldest sister enjoys the spices that he can get in the Capitol that aren't available anywhere else. He always has something to bring back to them that can be made useful, is appreciated, and is just a little nicer than anything they have in Four.

He's never brought anything back for Annie. She still struggles to shake off the Capitol, even though it's been a year since her Victory Tour. He's never seen anything that he knows she would care for, anything that he knows she wouldn't shy away from. But the moment he wakes up on the train to a pile of kittens in bed next to him, he knows that they're for her. 

Officially, Melia is tasked with taking care of the kittens while they're on the train, but they seem to like to follow Finnick. They like to climb up the legs of his pants and clamber around his lap, which makes Melia wince as she watches the tiny holes they put in his clothes. They chew on his fingertips, purr when he pets them, climb across his face when he sleeps. 

One goes missing for half a day, and the entire train is sent on a mission to find the most adventurous of the kittens, who is discovered at the top of Finnick's closet. No one knows how she got there. 

They go back into the box when Finnick disembarks from Four, the only thing he physically carries off the train. Anything else he needs will be delivered to his house in Victors' Village.

Annie is the only one waiting for him. After years of his being a victor, the novelty has worn off for his family. But, so far, Annie has always been there, no matter what time the train gets in. No matter how long it has been. No matter what stories she has heard from the Capitol about him. 

She smiles at him when he steps down on the platform, shy and exuberant all in one mix that is uniquely her. She walks toward him, and he can tell that she's trying not to run. She rests a hand on top of his, waits, and he nods, so she leans in and kisses him, a warm hello.

Inside the box, one of the kittens mews it protest at being contained for so long.

Annie looks down in surprise. 

“Are those--?” she starts to ask, her delight evident in her voice.

“For you,” Finnick answers, ducking in to kiss her again. Finnick tucks the box underneath his arm, causing another chorus of mews. He takes Annie's hand and they head back up to his house. Everyone else is still asleep, so they creep up to what is technically his room, but in reality, is their room. 

Finnick sets the box down on the ground, and Annie kneels beside it instantly, beginning to lift the kittens out. They remain near the box at first, padded feet growing adjusted to the rug underneath before the brave one begins to climb Annie, resting on her knee and staring up at her with a determined sort of expression. She laughs, a small trill, and pets it, fingers exploring the curve of its ears. She smiles up at Finnick, her eyes alight. 

“I thought you'd like them,” Finnick says. 

“I love them,” Annie answers immediately. “They're like little storms.”

“She is the brave one,” Finnick says, playfully catching the tail of the one who is perched on Annie's knee. “And he's the climber,” Finnick says, gesturing to the one that currently has his claws in Finnick's pants. “And she's the shy one.” Finnick says, nodding toward the last kitten, who is still sitting on the rug near the box, taking in the room around her.

“All three are trouble,” he surmises as Anne picks up the one in her lap, pressing a kiss to her face. The kitten thrashes for a moment, seeming uncertain about whether or not she's enjoying such treatment. Annie sets her back down on the ground.

“Just like their dad then,” Annie says warmly, and leans in to kiss him.


End file.
